Wrong Press Conf
Content
Dear MS,
Due disclosure first: I enjoy your press
conferences. I have groaned about transcribing
your long-winded responses, but more often
than not the takeaway has been plenty of
wisdom, especially of the more unconventional
variety. You once recounted advice your father
gave you about last-minute cramming: "It
doesn't matter whether you study or play a
match with an exam tomorrow. If you have
prepared well during the rest of the year,
studying today or not won't matter. It's the same
if you haven't touched your books during the rest
of the year." Or your dark analogy when asked
which whitewash hurt more - the one in England
or Australia: "You die, you die. You don't see
which is the better way to die."
Your interactions with the media have never
lacked for humour either. Like the time you
picked up a journalist's phone and answered the
call when it rang in the middle of a press
conference. You have a quick-witted, snarky style
of meeting uneasy or controversial questions.
You listen to questions intently and make
unflinching eye contact when answering them.
What's not to like?
At the same time, you have made no secret of
your mistrust of sports journalists, even showing
us how you remove the sports section of the
newspaper before reading the rest of it. Very
rarely have I seen you losing your cool, but lately
questions - about your retirement and other
issues - seem to annoy you. After India's heartstopping win against Bangladesh you snapped
at a reporter whose tone of questioning, you felt,
suggested disappointment at the result. And
when asked about retirement recently, you
replied: "Just because somebody has the
platform to ask questions, it does not mean that
you keep on asking the same questions."
On Thursday night - after West Indies defeated
India in the World T20 semi-final - you had
probably decided to swat this pesky question out
of the park for good. Rather surprisingly it was
an Australian journalist, Sam Ferris, who asked
it. Actually, not much of a surprise, given Indian
journalists had by then anticipated the reaction
such a question would evoke. When you wanted
to "have some fun," you likely intended to use
humour and sarcasm to end the speculation. It
seemed funny initially when you called Ferris to
the front and made him sit beside you. There was
laughter in the room. But, by the time you were
done taking the mickey out of Ferris, it was clear
to everyone who the intended target was. "I wish
it was an Indian media guy [who had asked the
question] because I would have asked whether
he has a son who is old enough to play and is a
wicketkeeper to play. He would have said 'no,'
then I would have said maybe a brother who can
play and who is a wicketkeeper. You fired the
wrong ammunition at the wrong time." As Ferris
later wrote, he had taken "a bullet for my Indian
colleagues."
Being asked about retirement all the time doesn't
sound much fun - especially after a tough loss.
But while I empathise with you, I think Ferris'
question was legitimate. It isn't unusual to see
careers end after a world event, and there have
been a few cricketers who have made that call.
You made that call too, in Test cricket, a little
more than a year ago when nobody had a whiff of
it.
Ferris' question was: "You have achieved
virtually everything that a cricketer could. Are
you keen to continue playing on?" It doesn't
come across as a particularly offensive question
to a 34-year-old who has led his team to two
World titles and a Champions Trophy. Consider
this: India play a glut of Test matches over the
next 12 months, which means quite a bit of time
away from the game. Surely, the future plans of a
celebrated team's captain are worth asking
about?
At worst it was a clichéd question - if it makes
you feel better the media gets clichéd answers all
the time - but not one that deserved the
patronising response it got. All it needed was a
straightforward answer - "I don't have plans to
retire yet", or "I will make it public when I plan
to", or even a "no comment," if you really didn't
wish to answer it. You probably expected an
Indian journalist to ask the question, because
you trotted out the response anyway.
I don't speak on behalf of all the journalists; I
speak merely as one of many. You are free to
ascribe any intent to any question, but our job is
about seeking answers and reporting on them
just as yours is playing cricket. Some would
accuse us journalists of taking ourselves too
seriously. I am all for taking the mickey, pulling a
leg or two - just so long as mutual respect and
professionalism is a two-way street.
Due disclosure first: I enjoy your press
conferences. I have groaned about transcribing
your long-winded responses, but more often
than not the takeaway has been plenty of
wisdom, especially of the more unconventional
variety. You once recounted advice your father
gave you about last-minute cramming: "It
doesn't matter whether you study or play a
match with an exam tomorrow. If you have
prepared well during the rest of the year,
studying today or not won't matter. It's the same
if you haven't touched your books during the rest
of the year." Or your dark analogy when asked
which whitewash hurt more - the one in England
or Australia: "You die, you die. You don't see
which is the better way to die."
Your interactions with the media have never
lacked for humour either. Like the time you
picked up a journalist's phone and answered the
call when it rang in the middle of a press
conference. You have a quick-witted, snarky style
of meeting uneasy or controversial questions.
You listen to questions intently and make
unflinching eye contact when answering them.
What's not to like?
At the same time, you have made no secret of
your mistrust of sports journalists, even showing
us how you remove the sports section of the
newspaper before reading the rest of it. Very
rarely have I seen you losing your cool, but lately
questions - about your retirement and other
issues - seem to annoy you. After India's heartstopping win against Bangladesh you snapped
at a reporter whose tone of questioning, you felt,
suggested disappointment at the result. And
when asked about retirement recently, you
replied: "Just because somebody has the
platform to ask questions, it does not mean that
you keep on asking the same questions."
On Thursday night - after West Indies defeated
India in the World T20 semi-final - you had
probably decided to swat this pesky question out
of the park for good. Rather surprisingly it was
an Australian journalist, Sam Ferris, who asked
it. Actually, not much of a surprise, given Indian
journalists had by then anticipated the reaction
such a question would evoke. When you wanted
to "have some fun," you likely intended to use
humour and sarcasm to end the speculation. It
seemed funny initially when you called Ferris to
the front and made him sit beside you. There was
laughter in the room. But, by the time you were
done taking the mickey out of Ferris, it was clear
to everyone who the intended target was. "I wish
it was an Indian media guy [who had asked the
question] because I would have asked whether
he has a son who is old enough to play and is a
wicketkeeper to play. He would have said 'no,'
then I would have said maybe a brother who can
play and who is a wicketkeeper. You fired the
wrong ammunition at the wrong time." As Ferris
later wrote, he had taken "a bullet for my Indian
colleagues."
Being asked about retirement all the time doesn't
sound much fun - especially after a tough loss.
But while I empathise with you, I think Ferris'
question was legitimate. It isn't unusual to see
careers end after a world event, and there have
been a few cricketers who have made that call.
You made that call too, in Test cricket, a little
more than a year ago when nobody had a whiff of
it.
Ferris' question was: "You have achieved
virtually everything that a cricketer could. Are
you keen to continue playing on?" It doesn't
come across as a particularly offensive question
to a 34-year-old who has led his team to two
World titles and a Champions Trophy. Consider
this: India play a glut of Test matches over the
next 12 months, which means quite a bit of time
away from the game. Surely, the future plans of a
celebrated team's captain are worth asking
about?
At worst it was a clichéd question - if it makes
you feel better the media gets clichéd answers all
the time - but not one that deserved the
patronising response it got. All it needed was a
straightforward answer - "I don't have plans to
retire yet", or "I will make it public when I plan
to", or even a "no comment," if you really didn't
wish to answer it. You probably expected an
Indian journalist to ask the question, because
you trotted out the response anyway.
I don't speak on behalf of all the journalists; I
speak merely as one of many. You are free to
ascribe any intent to any question, but our job is
about seeking answers and reporting on them
just as yours is playing cricket. Some would
accuse us journalists of taking ourselves too
seriously. I am all for taking the mickey, pulling a
leg or two - just so long as mutual respect and
professionalism is a two-way street.
